GEORGIA.
Those Atlanta Apples.
Missionary statistics are sometimes thought to be dry. I propose to give some that all will concede to be juicy.
In the good old Massachusetts towns of Amherst, Danvers, Lincoln, Newton, Norfolk, and Walpole, there grew last summer a choice collection of forty thousand apples. These apples were choice not only because of their beauty and flavor, but also because of their missionary destiny. Scorning to waste their precious substance in the cellars, and attics, and barns of a region already over-stocked by their orchard companions, they resolved to put themselves where they would do the most good. So by the aid of willing hands and generous hearts they found their way into eighty good-sized barrels, a goodly half thousand in each barrel. Rail-cars and steamers brought them to the sunny South, and they were soon provided with ample accommodations in one of the basements of Atlanta University.
It must be confessed that when the barrels were opened some of the apples had a very green appearance, as though they had never been on a mission before; while others of them were blushing violently, as if greatly agitated by the responsibilities of their new vocation. Subsequent acquaintance, however, proved that these indications of weakness were wholly upon the surface, and that, with the exception of a very few who had been suffering from their long journey, the new comers were sound to the core and fully prepared for missionary service.
This service, it must be added, was one which called for nerve on the part of the missionary recruits in proportion to their realizing sense of what they were coming to. Many times companies of two hundred each were summoned from the barrels and placed in long picket lines around the edges of a dozen large dining tables, one standing guard at each plate. But scarcely had this been done when two hundred hungry boys and girls and missionary teachers appeared upon the scene, and, after bestowing upon the red and green sentinels many a complacent smile through a long meal of meat and vegetables, finally attacked them with six thousand (more or less) sharp ivory weapons, and subjected them to that fate which other missionaries are said to have suffered among the Cannibal Islands. Others, after being flayed, drawn and quartered, were placed in boiling cauldrons, and their indistinguishable remains were afterwards served up on the same tables in sauce dishes or concealed under the crust of pies.
Yet these missionaries of Pomona uttered no complaint, but met their fate with a calmness that was beautiful to behold. All honor to the forty thousand! What a host it was! If taken to the capital of their native state and strung together, they would have made a festoon stretching from the State house dome to the apex of Bunker Hill monument! Many, many thanks to our generous friends.
All of us.
Twenty-eight New Disciples.
MISS JULIA GOODWIN, ATLANTA.
“Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so clear!
Bridal of earth and sky.”
These beautiful lines of the sainted Herbert well describe that bright day in March, a day in which to breathe its delicious air was a luxury; a day in which our hearts were lifted up in unison with all things in Nature; a day long to be remembered as a golden one in the history of this band of Christ’s followers.
As we entered the audience room, going from the clear sunshine without into the subdued light of the sanctuary, we found it filled to its utmost capacity, and over all seemed to reign a holy calm. Before the altar sat thirty who waited to be made one with this fold, (twenty-eight by profession, two by letter). Waiting to welcome these and to assist in the sacred rites of the hour were Rev. Messrs. Hawley, Francis, and Beaman, and Dr. Roy. After the singing of hymns, reading of Scripture and prayer, and the pastor had spoken fitting words of welcome, admonition and encouragement, those who had not already received the rite, one after another, kneeled before the altar for baptism. The hush of solemn stillness added to the impressiveness of the simple ceremony. Then in the freshness of their love the twenty-eight new disciples stood and took the vows of God upon them, while Christian hearts rejoiced; and may we not believe that angels bent to hear, and carry the news to Heaven of young hearts renouncing the world and pledging allegiance to the King of kings? God grant that each one may be found “faithful unto death.”
The emblems were blessed, the bread was broken, the wine poured, the invitation given, “eat ye all of it.” Interesting and touching reminiscences were indulged in, often with much tenderness of feeling. The heart-hymn, “My faith looks up to Thee,” every line of which breathes a prayer, ascended in its wedded tune of Olivet. The benediction was said; the service was over.
Thus we tell you of the first ingathering of sheaves from the harvest not yet fully garnered. Silently, as God’s greatest blessings always come, this favor has come to us. Seed scattered through many years by loving hands has, all unnoticed, been springing up. Sowing, pruning, digging about, preparing the ground to receive the watering of Divine mercy, has not been in vain. In answer to fervent, long-continued prayer, not with boisterous storm or rush of wind, but gently, the rich showers of blessing fell, “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord.”
The awakening began in our day-school. Much seriousness seemed manifest during the week of prayer, when daily after-school meetings were held, and in connection with the labors of Mr. and Mrs. H. E. Brown, a few weeks later, in many hearts a settled purpose to serve the Lord found expression. The church and school, like twin-born sisters, go hand in hand. One can not be troubled and the other be unaffected; one cannot be blessed and the other remain unmoved. The work of grace went on, making the Sunday-school and all church services solemn seasons. Each night the place of prayer was crowded, many anxious to know the way of life or avowing their purpose to live for Christ, sometimes struggling through days of darkness to find the clear light from the sun of righteousness just beyond. Sweet always will be the remembrance of a morning greeting from a bright-faced girl of fourteen, as she waited at the school-yard gate. Her beaming countenance told the story even before the lips, which quickly uttered the glad words, “I have found Christ at last! He has forgiven my sins!”
Some among those who seemed the stoutest-hearted were the first to submit to Christ, while sadly we look upon others, who remind us of the young man whom Jesus loved, who seemed near the kingdom and yet took no step nearer.
The joy it gives every new-born soul to welcome one after another to their newly-formed ranks has been beautiful to behold. A hopeful sign is that everyone seemed so ready, nay, so eager, to do some service in showing to others the path in which their own feet had just begun to tread. All love the place of prayer, and often spend the half-hour recess at noon in a prayer-meeting by themselves in the small library up-stairs. Some of tender years are as thoughtful in face and manner as the oldest ones. One in telling of her new-found love said, “I felt that I loved everybody, and if my arms had been large enough I thought I would like to take in the whole world;” and with eyes and voice full of tears, she begged prayers for her father, who had said, when she urged him to come to Christ, “I am too old.”
Just as in days gone by, many benighted ones outside of us believe that “gettin’ religion” consists in the seeing of visions and the dreaming of dreams, and those who have been taught the truth in our Sunday-school are often interrogated; “How far did you go?” “What did you see in your travels?” “How long did you stay in torment?” and when they have no answer but the unvarying one, “We are trying to do Christ’s commands,” they are taunted with “You’re no Christian!” “Bible religion ain’t no religion.” Yet they show only a feeling of pity for such ignorant ones.
There is still among us a spirit of inquiry. At our usual Monday after-school prayer-meeting many said, “Pray for us!”
Through all there seems to underlie a current of earnestness and desire for holier living in God’s children, and more, much more we crave of willingness and strength, that so we may—
“Joy to find in every station
Something still to do or bear.”